


i blinked and the world was gone

by wrote_my_way_out



Category: Hannibal (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_my_way_out/pseuds/wrote_my_way_out
Summary: I wish you felt me fallingI wish you'd watched over meYou said you'd wait forever but I blinkAnd the world was gone





	i blinked and the world was gone

In a majority of professional psychiatric circles, Doctor Alana Bloom was not to be trusted. Any woman who was on the homepage of Tattle Crime on a weekly basis had to have something wrong with her. And any woman who arrived at a Los Angeles psychiatric convention in a private jet before emerging in a solid black pantsuit simply had to have ulterior motives.  
Alana Bloom was never one to blend in, her intelligence and drive always setting her apart from the crowd. She was a social butterfly, a trusted friend to all. She was an adored professor (sometimes the adoration got a bit personal, but with her history, she had no place to judge). She had her fair share of suitors, male and female. However, since the day she was found on a Baltimore sidewalk, everything below and including her pelvis shattered, she was a different woman. She didn’t speak much and she was rarely seen with friends. One might even begin to suspect that she had no friends. In Alana’s defense, it wasn’t exactly easy to make friends when you had a reputation as Hannibal Lecter’s former plaything.  
Despite the setbacks of a glaring reputation such as the one she had, Alana Bloom continued as a psychiatrist and the warden of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. There were several outcries about her place at the hospital, what with Hannibal being a prisoner there, but she proved herself worthy of the job. Five doors, five keys, five obstacles between Hannibal Lecter and the outside world. And Alana had access to all of them. A less experienced, more gullible warden would have surely let Lecter go free in the three years he had been imprisoned. Alana knew his games, his tricks. She could read him like her old favourite novel, an emotional journey she had gone on too many times. It was his favorite thing to taunt her about. He would talk to her through the glass wall, get her off with his words in a way only he could, then smirk when she said she needed to leave. The most dangerous psychopath is the one who knows how they affect you.  
None of this, of course, occurred to Alana when she arrived in Los Angeles. She put on her sunglasses, quite annoyed by the heat. The previous conference had been held in Toronto. She loved it there, loved the weather that wasn’t unlike her home in Maryland. There was also the delightful ability to go out in public without worrying about people staring at her. Her past was primarily an American horror story, a tale only known abroad by those infatuated with crime and killers.  
A limousine waited for Alana outside the airport, crowded by greasy teenagers. Alana couldn’t help but scoff at the disgusting display. Children, with Hannibal’s likeness on their shirts, yelling obscenities at her. Her bodyguard, Benjamin, tried to hold them back, but it was not an easy task. She felt a hand grab her bicep and turned around, panicked.  
“You must be Dr. Bloom,” said a grinning man in a suit. “I’m Dr. Joshua Frazier. I’ll be attending the conference with you. Do you mind if I ride to the hotel with you?”  
“No, Dr. Frazier. I don’t mind at all,” Alana replied in a low voice. She was cautious, as always, but he seemed a trustworthy person. Something about the way he said her name convinced her to let him in. He entered the limousine after her, maintaining a respectful distance between the two. He was silent until the door closed and the limousine had begun moving.  
“You’re prettier than I expected,” Frazier said, smirking with a glint in his eyes. Alana shifted, uncomfortable and suddenly hyperaware of how long until she could get away from him, get away from her past that she tried so hard to conceal. “I knew Hannibal Lecter was a man of wealth and taste, but you… you seem far too beautiful to have been his lamb for the slaughter.”  
“Dr. Frazier, please do not speak of me in that way. My mistakes in the past do not dictate who I am and I certainly do not need to be reminded of them.” Alana stiffened and pursed her lips. Her grip tightened on her cane, as she felt her face become hot. Frazier laughed, acting as if Alana was a comedy act made available for his entertainment.  
“Don’t fret, Alana, I have a taste for tragic women.” Frazier shifted, spreading his legs slightly. “Something about your trauma just gets my blood rushing.”  
The limousine came to a stop and Alana exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She attempted to get out as soon as she could physically manage, but Frazier grabbed her arm. Frustrated and scared, Alana slammed her cane into the revolting man’s chest. He released her and she raced away as fast as she could (it should be noted that due to injuries sustained previously, this was not very fast and running in general caused Alana an immense amount of pain.)

 

“Report him, love. He has no right to treat you like he did,” Margot’s voice crackled through the phone line. Alana took a deep breath, her mind clouding over as the panic set in. She loved her wife, she did, but Margot was not always spectacular at helping her calm down. She had always struggled with severe anxiety and the post-traumatic stress disorder that she developed in the wake of Hannibal’s destruction didn’t help much at all. A small voice on Margot’s end caught Alana’s attention.  
“Ozzy, sweetheart, I’m on the phone with your mother… We can take Carrot on a walk later. Alright, love you.” Margot sighed. Alana knew their son was a miracle but the parenting situation was difficult. Alana and Margot both had to attend conferences and leave home, and it was detrimental to Ozymandias’ health. It was hard, but it was their life. They hadn’t chosen it, but they had chosen not to let it defeat them.  
“I just have to stomach it until this shit show is over… I should be honored to be here. I think.” Alana chewed on her cuticle, a bad habit she had developed in high school. The only period in her life when she had managed to avoid the habit was when she was with him and she never could decide whether it was because she felt comfortable with him or because he was drugging her.  
“I have to go but just… know that you shouldn’t feel pressured to stay there.” Alana smiled at her wife’s care. The phone call ended with whispers of love and silent tears. Alana looked around her hotel room, her finger now bleeding. She searched desperately for a bandage, staining the expensive duvet of her bed. Muttered curses mixed with gentle crying. It was the most alone Alana had felt in a very long time.  
Alana was defeated. She wandered around her room aimlessly, a permanent lump in her throat. The sun set outside, casting rays of sunlight through the window and painting Alana golden. The glare should have made her turn away but she stared into the light as if challenging it. She never had been one to back down, even when the odds were against her and she would undoubtedly lose. A single glance at the bed made Alana afraid to close her eyes, for fear of what was awaiting her in her dreams, or, more realistically, her nightmares. She was haunted by him constantly as he had scarred her in more ways than one.  
Stripping off her clothing to shower, Alana stared at the marks on her body and felt her hands begin to shake. Stretch marks from carrying her son. Lacerations on her hips from that fateful night. Her hand rubbed her stomach circularly, silently mourning the child she never met. Looking back on the circumstances, she could never decide whether or not she would have carried the baby to term, but she would have liked to make that decision for herself rather than having had it made for her. A 24 hour period encompassed her joyful discovery of the small bundle of cells inside of her and the loss of that same bundle of cells. A larger part of her died on the sidewalk outside of Hannibal’s house than anyone had realized.  
The shower water couldn’t reach a high enough temperature to satisfy Alana’s desire. Her entire life, she had taken scalding showers when she felt guilty. She scrubbed at her skin until it was raw, hopelessly trying to remove her feelings. Occasionally, more often than not, it caused her skin to bleed. If Margot had ever noticed, she hadn’t said a word. Of course, it was difficult to save your wife from her demons if you couldn’t acknowledge your own. That was a two-way street both women were guilty of avoiding entirely.  
Alana got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, dark hair hanging in wet strands around her face. Sleep would make everything better, it always did for her. Old Wive’s Tales be damned; Alana wasn’t drying her hair before she got some well-deserved rest. She grabbed a shirt of Margot’s that she had brought with her, pulling it on before grabbing a pair of sweatpants. She crawled into bed sluggishly, letting the sadness wash over her and drifting off to sleep. Sleeping without being reintroduced to the horrendous trauma she had gone through was much like religion to Alana; completely impossible and mythical.  
Most nights, her nightmares were the same sequence of events. She was haunted by a dark force that inhabited her every cell. Alana relived that night in her lover’s home, the panic that set in once she realized her gun had no ammunition in it. The searing pain from a second story fall that forever changed her. And then, him. Hannibal at his sweetest, showering her with love and affection that she was certain no other person had ever gotten from him. He made her a private reserve of beer, which would be more touching if she hadn’t been informed that human remains were used to make the beer unique. She was reminded of his hands on her skin when he made love to her. He was the first person to ever make love to Alana, as every other bedmate she had enjoyed the company of had only had sex with her.  
Her nightmare always ended exactly the same: with a birth. Not the birth of her son with Margot, but rather the child she never had with Hannibal. A demonic baby with antlers was placed in her arms by a faceless nurse. In a flash, the baby dissolved and Alana was drowning.

Alana was awoken by an insistent knocking at her hotel room door. She rubbed her eyes lazily, yawning as her vision adjusted to the morning light.  
“LAPD. Open up.” A woman’s voice pierced the warm morning air. Alana got up and walked to the door, glancing at her attire. She hadn’t knocked on a door for a law enforcement agency for a long time. She couldn’t pass the psychological evaluation after that night. She grabbed the robe from the bathroom and pulled it on before opening the door. She must have looked confused because a blonde woman with a badge sighed deeply.  
“I’m Detective Chloe Decker with the Los Angeles Police Department. This is my, er, partner, Lucifer Morningstar,” the blonde woman said calmly. Alana looked at the man accompanying the detective.  
“What can I help you with, Detective?” Alana kept her voice steady, aware that panic would make her seem paranoid. The last thing she needed was to be accused of a felony. The tall man, Lucifer, blatantly swept his eyes over Alana, making her highly uncomfortable. She was getting quite impatient. “Well?”  
“There’s been a murder. A colleague of yours was found dead in his room this morning,” Lucifer informed Alana, his British accent somehow shocking her more than the fact that his name was ‘Lucifer’. Alana glanced from Detective Decker to Lucifer, her confusion growing by the minute.  
“And you’re talking to me because….”  
“Because you were seen with Joshua Frazier yesterday and he is known to have said quite inflammatory things about you. There was also a mark on his chest that matches the model of cane you use to walk.” Decker shifted. “You’re a suspect, Doctor Bloom.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you love it? Did you hate it?  
> Do you want a chapter two? Comment below.


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